e really done nothing locally, save

the arrest of these gipsies. look here, watson! there is

a watercourse across the moor. you see it marked here in

the map. in some parts it widens into a morass. this is

particularly so in the region between holdernesse hall and

the school. it is vain to look elsewhere for tracks in

this dry weather; but at _that_ point there is certainly a

chance of some record being left. i will call you early

to-morrow morning, and you and i will try if we can throw

some little light upon the mystery."

the day was just breaking when i woke to find the long,

thin form of holmes by my bedside. he was fully dressed,

and had apparently already been out.

"i have done the lawn and the bicycle shed," said he.

"i have also had a ramble through the ragged shaw.

now, watson, there is cocoa ready in the next room.

i must beg you to hurry, for we have a great day before us."

his eyes shone, and his cheek was flushed with the

exhilaration of the master workman who sees his work lie

ready before him. a very different holmes, this active,

alert man, from the introspective and pallid dreamer of

baker street. i felt, as i looked upon that supple figure,

alive with nervous energy, that it was indeed a strenuous

day that awaited us.

and yet it opened in the blackest disappointment.

with high hopes we struck across the peaty, russet moor,

intersected with a thousand sheep paths, until we came to

the broad, light-green belt which marked the morass between

us and holdernesse. certainly, if the lad had gone

homewards, he must have passed this, and he could not pass

it without leaving his traces. but no sign of him or the

german could be seen. with a darkening face my friend

strode along the margin, eagerly observant of every muddy

stain upon the mossy surface. sheep-marks there were in

profusion, and at one place, some miles down, cows had left

their tracks. nothing more.

"check number one," said holmes, looking gloomily over the

rolling expanse of the moor. "there is another morass down

yonder and a narrow neck between. halloa! halloa! halloa!

what have we here?"

we had come on a small black ribbon of pathway.

in the middle of it, clearly marked on the sodden soil,

was the track of a bicycle.

"hurrah!" i cried. "we have it."

but holmes was shaking his head, and his face was puzzled

and expectant rather than joyous.

"a bicycle certainly, but not _the_ bicycle," said he.

"i am familiar with forty-two different impressions left

by tyres. this, as you perceive, is a dunlop, with a patch

upon the outer cover. heidegger's tyres were palmer's,

leaving longitudinal stripes. aveling, the mathematical

master, was sure upon the point. therefore, it is not

heidegger's track."

"the boy's, then?"

"possibly, if we could prove a bicycle to have been in his

possession. but this we have utterly failed to do.

this track, as you perceive, was made by a rider who was

going from the direction of the school."

"or towards it?"

"no, no, my dear watson. the more deeply sunk impression

is, of course, the hind wheel, upon which the weight rests.

you perceive several places where it has passed across and

obliterated the more shallow mark of the front one. it was

undoubtedly heading away from the school. it may or may

not be connected with our inquiry, but we will follow it

backwards before we go any farther."

we did so, and at the end of a few hundred yards lost the

tracks as we emerged from the boggy portion of the moor.

following the path backwards, we picked out another spot,

where a spring trickled across it. here, once again, was

the mark of the bicycle, though nearly obliterated by the

hoofs of cows. after that there was no sign, but the path

ran right on into ragged shaw, the wood which backed on to

the school. from this wood the cycle must have emerged.

holmes sat down on a boulder and rested his chin in his

hands. i had smoked two cigarettes before he moved.

"well, well," said he, at last. "it is, of course,

possible that a cunning man might change the tyre of his

bicycle in order to leave unfamiliar tracks. a criminal

who was capable of such a thought is a man whom i should be

proud to do business with. we will leave this question

undecided and hark back to our morass again, for we have

left a good deal unexplored."

we continued our systematic survey of the edge of the

sodden portion of the moor, and soon our perseverance was

gloriously rewarded. right across the lower part of the

bog lay a miry path. holmes gave a cry of delight as he

approached it. an impression like a fine bundle of telegraph

wires ran down the centre of it. it was the palmer tyre.

"here is herr heidegger, sure enough!" cried holmes, exultantly.

"my reasoning seems to have been pretty sound, watson."

"i congratul